


The Ones that Die

by The_Grodyverse



Series: Ghosts [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Blood and other things metioned, Can you blame him, Eddie is a ghost, F/M, Ghosts, I hope I write him alright, I'm sorry my son, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Myra is only mentioned, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, This is a lot of words for just ' how Eddie reacts to R+E', as would be expected, featuring mvp vip Stan, fuck that fucking clown, ghosts don't know what tf is going on either, i guess, kind of, lots of swearing, not a fix it, richie is sad, set at the end of it chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Grodyverse/pseuds/The_Grodyverse
Summary: After everything he's seen, this might as well be next. Sentient lights that feed off the fear of mortals make an afterlife seem kind of dull after all.Eddie is a ghost, but it doesn't bring him any more clarity.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: Ghosts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618951
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	The Ones that Die

**Author's Note:**

> I never really knew what "this fic got away from me" meant until I started writing this. Wanted to explore Eddie being able to realize Richie was in love with him and vomited this out instead. I hope you enjoy the result.

Slowly, he blinks. Once, twice, three times. He was standing, or at least that's how it seemed. His body somehow felt wrong, not heavy enough, not...dense. As he contemplated gravity's seeming lack of power over him things came into focus. A cave. Well…cave might be generous. A nasty, damp hole might be more accurate, and god what the fuck was that smell? After a few moments of just wrinkling his nose as hard as he could he glances to his left, almost physically jumping when he realized there was a group of people immediately next to him. How fucking long had they been there and what the fuck were they doing hanging out in this hell hole (what was he??) To be fair they looked like they were ready to leave ASAP and he became vaguely aware that the area around them seemed to be all but falling apart.  _ Clearly _ this place should have been blocked off to the public this was a HUGE liability. It looked like one of the people had already been hurt, slumped against the wall-

Everything stopped.

Sitting there, eyes glassy and unblinking, dark thick blood still dripping off of their chin, a trail that led his eyes down to a gaping wet hole. He doubled over to vomit only to realize he couldn't, as if his organs had been stolen out of his body cavity. There in front of him was himself, unmoving and very clearly dead. 

What the fuck. _ What the fuck. What the EVER LOVING FUCK.  _

Slowly he realized sounds were coming back to him, like someone turning up the volume on a TV. How had he not noticed everything was silent? Now voices, breathing, ambient sounds and distantly rocks falling. If he still felt like he had lungs he's pretty sure he would be hyperventilating. Holy shit. Holy fucking  _ shit.  _ Was this a new more detailed type of lucid dream, could he be medicated for this? What if he was the first case EVER and there is no treatment-

"-we got it man-" His panicked thoughts come to a screeching halt and he finally really  _ looks  _ at the people standing around his - _ definitely a hallucination-  _ body. Gravity suddenly feels like it has been turned back on as memories all fall into place in a way that is nothing if not devastating. He knows why he's down there...he knows who these people are. He knows that he…..that he really is  _ dead.  _ It feels like his heart is back and a cold hand has wrapped around it and  _ squeezed.  _

"Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh  _ fuck."  _ He whispers " It got me, that motherFUCKING clown-" covering his mouth and squeezing his eyes closed acceptance seeps into him. After all he has seen this might as well be next. He's not sure why he has not been crippled by grief and pure raw panic by now, except for the strange feeling that his mind is missing something it had in life, just like the density seems to be missing from his bones. He supposes after the alien shapeshifting sentient lights that fed off the fear of mortals and a….a turtle?? an afterlife seemed almost dull. He really thought for a minute he had killed that motherfucker, his bright eyed joy seemed truly embarrassing now. Somehow the memory of the shameful irony is more powerful to him than the memory of the physical pain. God being dead had really fucked up his priorities. How long had he been spacing out since remembering what was going on, seconds? Minutes? Was time even real anymore? God what a cliche. He could see Richie' s face in his mind right when he had been stabbed and that hurt more than the actual claw going through his organs. Oh god  _ Rich.  _

Time snapped back to moving normally again and he was once again watching his best friends all gathered around his corpse. 

"-he's alright, we just got to get him out of here, he's hurt man-" 

What? He looked at Richie with confusion, frowning. The denial in his voice, as if he truly believed what he said…. Eddie was clearly gone, his eyes staring endlessly into nothing. Why would his friend say that, so utterly out of touch with reality? 

"Honey… honey he's dead…" Bev's voice cracked as she spoke.

"Richie…" Eddie said, his voice sounding just the same to his ears as it always had "It's true man, I'm gone… I'm gone." 

"We gotta go-" Bill. He watched as Richie took his body into his arms in a gesture more tender and desperate than he could ever remember seeing from the other man. 

"Richie come on…. Why are you-that-" he gestures " That isn't me anymore. It's okay you can just  _ leave it- _ " A recoiling feeling hit him at the thought of being stuck in this place forever, but he pushes it away. Not him, just something that used to be. Rocks were starting to fall. " You guys can't get hurt over… over a body!" Ben, Bill and Mike are trying to pry Richie off now and he only clings tighter.

"We can still help him guys, we can still help him-!!"

"Let me GO Richie!!" He all but yells, feeling like stomping his foot in frustration, just like he had countless times as a kid." Why are you being like this?!"

"We can still help him-!!!" He was being dragged away now, successfully separated from Eddie's body, but he's struggling. 

"Just fucking go, asshole." Eddie mutters, a violent fear that the others will be hurt seeping into him. He hears one last cry of "Eddie, No-!!!"before they are out of sight. The other worldly detachment he has had since waking dissipates completely. He misses it immediately. 

* * *

He blinks back into existence outside on Niebolt Street. Bone deep relief washes through him as he sees the rest of the losers club run out of that shitty house before it starts to properly collapse. Well, he thinks as he watches, the meat sack that was Eddie Kaspbrak is officially gone, buried under tons of rock and dirt. It should upset him more but deep down he knows a pristine embalmed body in a casket would have made no difference. Next to him he realizes someone is struggling, trying to get back to the ruin. Richie.

"We gotta get back in there and get him, he's still in there!!" It takes both Mike and Ben to hold him back. "Eddie,  _ Eddie!!!"  _

Eddie snaps "Richie, what the fuck are you doing?!" He yells right into his face. "Why are you acting like this?? It sucks man, I know, it fucking sucks but what exactly are you going to do?!?" He points to the pile of rubble. "What if someone else got hurt what if-" a sudden realization. "What if you had just...just stayed?? You would have died too! For no reason!! Do you...do you think any of us would want that…. If, if we… for someone else to… " he trailed off as he watched the fight drain out of Richie and he all but collapsed onto the road below. 

"You always were different."

The breath he didn’t need anymore leaves him all at once as he spins to his right. A new man was standing there, looking right at him. He had soft, wise eyes partially hidden behind reading glasses and a tamed mop of curly hair.

“Stan?”

“Hi...hi there Eddie.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” Stan watched quietly as he had a little freakout. “God damn it, sure, sure why not, christ. I… God, Stan I have so much to say to you.” Stan gave a sad little smile, but Eddie got distracted again quickly. “Wait what do you mean I’m different?”

“To him.” Stan gestures to Richie. “You were always different than the rest of us.”

“What?” Eddie said, watching as the other losers gently pull Richie up off the ground “That doesn’t make any sense,  _ you  _ were his best friend, man.” A sinking feeling hits him “Ah fuck, Richie…” 

“Hm.” Stan said quietly “Maybe.”

* * *

He and Stan were sitting next to the water in the quarry, just waiting. 

“Why…” Eddie broke the silence awkwardly “Why did you...do it?” Stan kept staring over the water. 

“I suppose you will never get my letter… I remembered as soon as Mike called. And I knew that I couldn’t…. I was too scared to come back. But I couldn’t let you guys try alone either. I just knew if I let you face It without me…” He swallows slowly “you would all die. So this..this was my other option.” Eddie frowned. 

“I don’t understand.” A sigh.

“My absence would only be okay if I  _ couldn’t  _ be here. I had to take myself out of the game.”

“Shit Stan…” Eddie looked out over the water too “We missed you like fuck. I’m not… not mad but,  _ fuck. _ Do you regret it? At all?”

“It worked. I would take myself out to save all of you a hundred times over.” He gives another painful looking swallow. “Most of you.” God this was so fucked. “But I wish…. I wish I could have just been brave instead. Maybe if I was here we  _ all  _ could have made it out. We would all have a chance to be…” He took off his glasses and pressed his fingers hard into his eyes, exhaling shakily. Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to try to touch Stan’s shoulder, could they even touch?

“Were you happy?” Stan looks up at him. “Your life… was it good? Were you happy?” 

“Yeah…” he breathed “I was pretty happy. It would have been better with all of you in it though.” 

“God I’m fucking sorry Stan.”

“Were you happy?” Stan says in reply, sounding as if he already knows the answer. Eddie gives a humorless laugh. 

“No, no I don’t think I fucking was.” he ran his hand through his hair “I think my life might have fucking sucked.” Stan was quiet for a moment.

“All of us were…. stunted by what we went through. It seemed like we grew up but really it’s like we were all on pause until we came back, remembered, and ended it.”

“Yeah well, you were the most grown up back then too. Probably why your life was okay.” He chuckled then groaned, putting his head in his hands. “That summer I stood up to my mom. I remember now. I realized she was full of shit and I stood up to her and then I  _ forgot.  _ Right back to square one and she’s dead but it doesn’t matter because I fucking married version 2.0, what the fuck is wrong with me?” 

“We all regressed in some ways. All of us repeated mistakes after our memories were taken.” Eddie didn’t say anything or lift his head. “If you still could…. What would you do next?” Eddie finally looks up. 

“I want to think…God, fuck… if I could stop being a fucking chickenshit I know exactly what I’d do. I’d leave Myra, leave that fucking city I hate. Do something worthwhile with my life. I don’t think med schools take many 40 year olds but I could be a radiologist or something. A nurse practitioner maybe. Fucking Richie would probably be an asshole and call me a “murse” or something.” His chest tightens again. “This really fucking sucks Stan. Really not fair, you know? Is this just going to be forever? Just hanging around for eternity rotting? Because that sounds a lot like hell.” 

“I don’t know.” Stan says “No one has told me the rules of the afterlife.” 

“Glad religion turns out to be so helpful.” Eddie snorts “Hope you’re not too disappointed Stan.” 

“ Religion was more my father’s thing.” 

They are interrupted by a loud splash. Bev, as always, had just jumped first into the quarry from the cliff above. ‘That should really be blocked off, that is NOT safe-’ Eddie’s thought is cut off as he saw four other figures leap into the water. He and Stan watch as they swim around, cleaning themselves of blood and grime. Eddie found his eyes wandering to Richie the most. He was moving less than the others, mostly staring at the water. 

“Eddie would have hated this.” Eddie’s gaze switches to Ben.

“What, cleaning up in dirty water?”

“Yeah I fucking would have you assholes.” Eddie groaned “But kind of irrelevant now, huh?” Bacteria seemed pretty fucking unimportant when you no longer had a body to be infected. How many hours had he wasted worrying about microorganisms when he wound up just getting fucking  _ impaled??  _

“He would be looking out for us, like he always was.” warmth flooded his chest and for the first time in a while he felt like crying. He really wasn’t ever going to be able to talk to them again, to touch them, to really  _ be  _ with them. But they were smiling at his memory and that’s what he wanted, for them to be okay, to be happy. 

“Right Richie?”

Richie wasn’t smiling. For once in his life he had nothing funny to add. Instead he was sobbing, curling into himself in the waist deep water. 

“Fuck.” Eddie says aloud. He is immediately up, walking towards where all the losers were converging, holding Richie comfortingly. 

“He won’t be able to hear or feel you.” Stan says.

“I know!” Eddie snaps, focusing on how he can feel the drag of the water around his legs but they don’t seem to be wet at all. When he reaches the group he awkwardly mimes draping himself over Richie’s back. He concentrates hard and when he softly leans his forehead against him it doesn’t go right through like a cartoonish ghost, thank god. Rich and the others might not be able to feel him, but the idea of comforting them is good enough. 

“Rich come on.” He whispers. “Where are you? You’re strong, why are you...taking this so  _ badly??”  _ Not that he wanted anyone to take his death WELL, but they had just remembered each other, knew the danger they were facing, had thought about their own deaths and the deaths of everyone else. And Richie had never been the most sensitive of them, had always had a thick protective layer of humor and smarts around him. 

“I don’t have my glasses so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.” Eddie physically sags with relief when he hears Richie finally crack a joke. Thank God. 

“No really, I can’t find my glasses.”

“Idiot.” Eddie says with a small smile. 

* * *

He and Stan are back on the shore, watching the other losers still splashing around. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Eddie asks suddenly and it is very clear who he is talking about. “Just like…. I was thinking. You were his best friend, and he’s not… not coping well with me being gone, I’m just fucking  _ worried-” _

“I don’t know.” Stan says and Eddie can sense a little fear in his voice.

“Come  _ on  _ Stan you are the senior ghost here you’re supposed to have the answers.” Stan raises his eyebrow but smiles a little too “I just… don’t understand man. I mean I know I got stabbed right on top of him and that’s pretty fucking traumatizing but-” he exhales trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve never seen him like this.” He hears Richie’s desperate screams of his name replay and a lump forms in his throat “I’ve never seen  _ anyone-”  _

“I have.” Stan interrupts “Patty. When she found me.” 

“Patty?” Eddie’s eyes widen with realization “Your wife.” 

“Yeah.” Stan’s voice was quaking slightly “I wish I didn’t have to do that to her.” A deep breath “But when you’ve made someone a part of yourself and suddenly they’re gone…. That’s what it looks like.” 

“But Stan that’s your  _ wife.”  _ Stan gives him a meaningful look and they lapse into awkward silence, even as the living losers finally climb out and head back to the inn.

“I know I said this already but this really fucking sucks.” Eddie finally says. “I still exist, but I can’t do anything. I can’t talk to anyone, or  _ feel  _ anything or grow or fix my stupid fucking life. I can only watch for eternity. Sure I know my friends are okay but to them I’m  _ gone. _ I can’t help them or-!” he lets out a frustrated noise. “I think just ceasing to exist would have been better, at least then I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t hurt.” 

After a moment Stan speaks up.    
“We may be here because of our connection to Pennywise. There are probably other beings like it…. out there.” Eddie does NOT want to unpack that.

“At least one thing I suspected about the afterlife is true” he says instead “It’s worse for the ones that get left behind than the ones that die.” 

* * *

When the losers make it back to the townhouse Eddie and Stan arrive there too. Eddie is not sure if he has to be wherever they are, or if he just wants to be. What’ll happen when they split up to go home? He supposes he can just take turns traveling to each of them in turn. God, when he was a kid first learning his mom was forcing him to leave his friends behind forever he would have given anything to be able to teleport to them at will.

Almost everyone immediately showered to  _ actually  _ clean themselves, except Richie who had to be bullied into it.

“You will feel better afterwards.” Bev had said. Richie had given a short humorless laugh. 

Eddie’s room was still covered in his and Bowers’ blood. Mike and Ben clean it quickly while Richie is in the shower. When they are leaving they stop next to his bed, staring at his abandoned suitcases. They convene with Bill and Bev. 

“Someone needs to inform his wife.” Mike says barely above a whisper “And his belongings should be returned to her as well. I hate to say it but we should also agree on a story of what happened and keep it consistent. I doubt his wife will simply accept his death without question and I can’t blame her. The Derry police are not going to do much of anything, but who knows about her local police.” Everyone glances around uncomfortably. Bev has her hand over her mouth, eyes damp. 

“I can take them…. and talk to her. I live the closest and maybe… I’ll be able to break it more gently.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Ben says softly “no one should have to do that alone.” Bev gently took his hand, smiling. 

“No, I’m going to do it.” The entire group jumps, spinning to where Richie was standing, jaw and fists clenched. “Having a fun little secret meeting?” 

“Richie.” Bill was using his leader voice as the others glanced around guiltily. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” 

“I don’t fucking care.” Richie spits back “You’re not my fucking boss, Bill. I’m taking his stuff back to New York. And I’ll… I’ll tell his  _ w-wife- _ ” his voice starts to tremble and he scrubs his face hard. “ _ Fuck.”  _ Bill steps forward and everyone is tense until he throws his arms around Richie. 

“Okay Richie.” He says quietly, rubbing his back “Okay.” Richie buries his face in Bill’s shoulder and trembles silently.

Eddie had forgotten that Myra probably did need to be informed that he was dead. She may be controlling and possessive and occasionally demeaning but she was a person and deserved to be treated like one. It would be a shock but she would be okay, he has good life insurance, ironically, and they had never really loved each other anyway. (would life insurance pay out if they never found a body?) Maybe he should be more worried for her but it was hard when all his focus was stolen by Richie, who now had Bev’s head on his shoulder, Ben and Mike placing their hands comfortingly on his arms. 

“I’m…… I’m okay.” he finally breaths “I’m going to go…. Get his things together.” 

“Do you want us to-” Bev starts

“No. No, go get some sleep. I’ll… go to bed soon too.” he gives a shaky smile. 

* * *

Richie has been staring at Eddie’s suitcases for half and hour. Eddies has been silently waiting just as long. He almost felt like he was part of a standoff, except one member of the party was an inanimate object. Finally with a shaky sigh Richie leans over to start unzipping the first one. He begins to go through it carefully, putting pill bottles to the side in their own pile as he comes across them. When he was up to ten he paused.

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” He whispers with a small smile.

“Listen,  _ asshole”  _ Eddie replies instantly “Just because I’m  _ prepared-” _ he didn’t finish, realizing that a) most of the conditions these pills were for were probably fake ( gazibos, his mind supplied) b) none of this had done him and good when he was  _ fucking gutted by a clown.  _ Richie had started actually reading the medication now, with a strange concentration. After a minute he pockets one that Eddie recognizes as a sleeping aid. After yet another moment he reaches back into the suitcase and also pulls out a soft grey sweatshirt. Before Eddie can even begin to question what he’s going to do with it Richie has strode out of the room with purpose. Eddie follows hot on his heels, passing Stan in the hallway. 

“What the fuck, did you only bring one change of clothes? What are you doing with that?” He watches as Richie dumps several pills into his hand and knocks them back. “Richie the fucking dose for those is  _ two  _ you asshole!” Eddie looks horrified as Richie falls down onto his bed. Improper dosage is suddenly the last thing on his mind as Richie takes his stolen hoodie and brings it to his face, curling his entire body around it as he lays down on his side. His shoulders begin to shake.

Stan is in the doorway now, and he can tell from how he is gazing at him that Eddie’s face looks just as devastated and confused as he feels.

* * *

Richie is screaming in his sleep. Eddie had been sitting vigil on the end of the bed. At one point he had a moment where he realized he couldn’t sleep, like  _ ever. _ That had given him a mini freak out moment, he couldn’t even take a break from consciousness for a few fucking hours? He calmed down a bit however when he realized that if he simply let focus slip time would move by as quickly as he seemed to want. It had slammed back to normal when Richie’s first scream cut through the air. Eddie scrambles up towards the headboard immediately, intent on shaking the other man awake. This time when he tries to touch him his hand sinks right through like he’s in a fucking episode of Scooby Doo. Fuck. Richie is tangled up in the blankets he hadn’t bothered to get under before, sweating like he had been running. The stolen hoodie was still in a vice grip against his body.

“Rich wake up!” Eddie yelled in desperation “Come on man!!” There is a scrambling noise followed by Bill bursting into the room, the others close behind. He glances around the room, sleep clumsy, as if to make sure there is no actual monster inside. Immediately after he stumbles toward the bed.

“Richie! Rich!!!” He yells, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders. Richie sits ups so quickly he nearly smashes his skull right into Bill’s. He’s gasping violently, looking wildly around the room.

“Hey, hey Richie, it’s okay. You’re awake, we’re here. It’s dead, It’s dead.” Richie’s breathing slows slightly as he looks Bill in the face. His eyes then flick over his shoulder. 

“Eddie.” said man feels the air leave the room. Richie looks back at Bill and the expression on his face tells him all he needs to know. He crumples in on himself and can’t hold back as he begins to sob. Eddie feels a bit like dying all over again. 

* * *

They all part ways the next day. There is some doubt at first, with many worried glances at Richie, but in the end it is unanimous that they want to get the fuck out of Derry. He and Stan watch as they all pack, Eddie’s suitcases going into Richie’s car. He’s wearing Eddie’s sweatshirt. 

“Where are you going to go?” He asks Stan, who is still very quiet. Quiet and sad. 

“I’ll stick with you wherever you go, for now.” 

“You sure?” Stan had other people he might want to be with, check in on.

“You’re going with Richie, right?” Eddie’s jaw clenches slightly as he nods. Stan doesn’t say anything else. The living losers hug countless times, promises are given over and over. They will check in with each other every day. A group chat is established, two, on different messaging services. Plans are already being made for how many times a year they are going to meet. It takes them forever to actually part ways. Bev and Ben leave together, Bill on his own. Mike has a little longer to stay before he can finally get out of Derry forever. In the end it’s just Richie sitting in his ridiculous rental car. He is going to drive to New York, Eddie has a feeling he didn’t want to be around a ton of strangers right now like he would be in an airport. Eddie was sitting in the passenger seat, Stan in the back. It felt incredibly ridiculous. The car is on but they haven’t started moving yet. Richie had been staring out the windshield for minutes, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. Eddie wishes he could at least send some kind of…. Comforting vibes at Richie. The tension is heavy. Finally, Richie puts the car in gear, a look of purpose on his face. They drive slowly through their shithole of a home town and Eddie starts thinking about how he’s actually pretty grateful for his new found ability to to make time pass faster for the drive. If he could just stop worrying about Richie long enough to relax. He looks, quite frankly, like shit. Eddie was pretty sure he had not slept again after waking up screaming. His mind was still working trying to figure out why his death had hit him so much harder that it had the others. Even harder than Stan's. The vice that felt like it had been around his heart since the day before keeps tightening. He is startled when they pull over suddenly. 

“Where the fuck?” He asks as Richie gets out, glancing back at Stan. Stan is just looking out the window with a strange expression. He almost looks like he was expecting the pit stop. He glances at Eddie and then nods out the window as if telling Eddie to follow Richie out. He takes a minute trying to open the door before remembering he can just  _ be  _ outside of the car if he wants. Ghost rules are weird. Once he’s outside he recognizes where they are.

“Is this the fucking  _ kissing bridge??” _

“Hm.” Stan says in vague agreement, now standing next to him. His eyes were on the other side of the bridge where Richie was now kneeling, facing the railing where so many names and initials (and some dicks) were carved.

“Did Richie… have some secret childhood love we didn’t know about in the fucking town? Who the hell did he even  _ talk  _ to that wasn’t us?” He felt strangely grumpy and exasperated by the thought. Stan stayed silent, just continuing to stare over at Richie. The man had pulled out a pocket knife, flicking it open. 

“Is he carving something now?” Eddie mutters, utterly confused. Stan finally gives him a look that says ‘just go over there and find out, idiot’. Eddie does.

“Hey man,” he says, getting very used to not expecting answers anymore “what the hell are you even doing-” The moment he really sees the letters being re-carved into the shitty old wooden railing sound turns off around him. His vision seems to zoom in as if it was a camera in some shitty action movie.

**R + E**

He looks up helplessly at Stan, who simply looks back with melancholy and understanding. He glances back down to make sure he read right, make sure those were the initials Richie had refreshed with his knife. Richie was gently touching them now, smiling but with eyes watering, threatening to spill. Eddie is vaguely aware Stan is next to him now.

“That-” His voice comes out slightly choked. He swallows. “That…. E doesn’t stand for Emily Williams from 8th grade math class, does it?” Stan gives him a small shake of the head. It was strange to feel the perspective of his entire life suddenly shift all at once. As if every memory he had was now under bright new lighting. 

“Rich…” 

Bickering endlessly while the other losers sighed with exasperation. Richie mocking him for his video game skills, even when it was painfully obvious how happy he was that Eddie had agreed to play. Eddie snatching Richie’s notebook away when he realized he was writing <3 Eddie’s Mom <3 next to his notes, threatening to rip up all the pages while Richie called him a lot of creative names. Sleepovers in Stan’s basement, hands brushing together in the popcorn bowl, Richie seeming to take an awful long time to grab a handful. Eddie getting the feeling maybe the reason Richie said so many terrible things about his mom is because he knew how she made Eddie feel and he hated it. Legs brushing as he pushes his way into the hammock, Richie yelling but not actually moving, cheeks pink with what at the time he thought was annoyance. How  _ angry  _ Richie had been that Bill didn’t even seem to care that Eddie had almost died in Neibolt, that he wanted to go back. The day Richie seemed to deliberately stop touching him, the strange look of fear he had when skin contact lasted too long. 

“Oh  _ shit,”  _ Eddie covers his mouth “Oh fuck Rich, all this fucking time?” Richie Tozier was a loudmouth who couldn’t be touched by doubt or insecurity. Richie didn’t spend days torturing himself over how other people felt about him. Richie didn’t keep secrets for years out of what…?

“Why didn’t he ever  _ say-” _

“He was afraid.” Eddie looks at Stan.

“You knew?” Stan nods. 

“Only for a moment, he told me the night before he left Derry. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. But he was... _ terrified  _ Eddie. As though I would immediately be disgusted by him once I knew, as if we would all throw him away once we found out he was ‘defective’.” Eddie really felt like being sick. All this time one of his best friends in the world had been letting part of himself eat him away inside. The most confident man he ever knew felt like he had to push down who he was so deep even he couldn’t acknowledge it all these years later. 

Richie had slid down to sit on the ground, head leaning back on the railing next to the initials, eyes closed. Eddie is sure that he has never wanted anything more than he wants to be able to touch him right now. His entire adult life he had felt incomplete, hollow. His professional and personal accomplishments had never felt as good as he thought they should. His connections with other people had never been as deep as they were supposed to be, shallow imitations of friendship, of love. He wasn’t sure he had been happy even once before sitting in that Chinese restaurant with the losers. Hadn’t been happy until he was sitting there next to Richie. Richie, who had always made him feel MORE than even the other losers. He had made him angrier than anyone else could, but also made him happier. He thinks of his sham marriage, how he just accepted this was normal, to feel numb at best towards a person that was supposed to be his other half. What would it have been like with someone different? Someone like-

He slides down the railing and slumps next to Richie. Trembling he reaches towards his hand,  _ praying  _ he will be able to touch him, almost crying when his own hand gently rests on top. He swears he can feel the warmth of Richie,  _ alive,  _ and he realizes he has actually begun to cry. Fat, embarrassing tears roll down his cheeks. He had wondered earlier if he could even cry anymore, he supposed now he knew. Being dead really gave him no more peace or insight than being alive, only a feeling of somehow being even  _ more  _ helpless.

“Fuck.” He rasps “ _ Fuck.”  _ he squeezes Richie’s hand and can’t help but to hope for some kind of a reaction. There is nothing. “It’s not fair.” anger is rising in him now “This just isn’t. Fucking.  _ Fair.  _ My whole life….. How many other ways did I waste the whole fucking thing??” He knew his pitch was rising, angry tears not slowing. He tries to take a deep, shuddering breath. He finally looks back up at his other ghostly companion. “We were just  _ kids,  _ Stan.Why did we have to be shoved into a war with a fucking interdementional being of evil? How the FUCK did that land on us?? We...we were just normal kids who wanted stupid normal kid stuff we didn’t deserve this, to have our whole lives altered,  _ ruined!  _ It’s not fucking  _ fair!!”  _ He knows he sounds hysterical now, taking big gulping breaths, the way a child would while having a tantrum. 

“It’s not.” Stan whispers. He covers his mouth, turning away, his own facade cracking. Eddie is startled as Richie begins to rise, unaware of the breakdown happening beside him. Eddie reaches out on instinct, as if he could grab his wrist and make him stop but Richie just goes right through him. He feels Stan’s hands on him, pulling him up and embracing him, hard. 

“I miss him too.” Eddie buries his head in Stan's shoulder, hot tears still leaking out.

“You were the best one of us.” Stan chuckles as if to say ‘I don’t know about that’.

“I missed you all so much.” He actually says “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to meet you all grown up.” his voice cracks slightly and they lapse into silence, Eddie squeezing himself even tighter into him. Stan places his head on top of his gently.

“What are you going to do now?” he says softly.

“Stay with him.” Eddie answers immediately, obviously. 

“How long…?”

Eddie looks up at Stan’s face and knows there is only one answer to give.

“Forever.” 


End file.
